Tag Archives: Romantic

Sonnet III: Sublime

Posted by David Emeron on

Express, shall I, what nature, perfect, is?
Thine every fibre, doth it answer me;
And giveth, every answer, what thou wilt;
But shalt thou, my reflection, never be.

So shall my sweet surround, make perfect bliss;
Thine answer’s twist doth make mine arms surround;
And maketh gather up, and without guilt,
Again, to make this circle thus abound.

I promise then, that wheresoever this,
Our passion, taketh thee beyond the world;
Thine answer, sweetest, never to be spilt,
No matter, gathered up, where art thou hurled.

Wherever then, I pledge, that dost thou sway;
So fast, mine hold, wilt not thou twist away.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Intro 3: Instinct

Posted by David Emeron on

Every twist and turn
Makes me hold you more tightly.
You can’t get away.

You know you are safe.
No matter where you may go.
I have to hold on.

Twist and slide, knowing
That I can always find you.
You can not get lost.

We are made this way.
Like hand and glove we are made.
That’s how well we fit.

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Sonnet II: Inspired

Posted by David Emeron on

So hot within, and burning of its own;
Can this exist?  Such mystery!  So much
Doth this incalesence my hand alight.
Do this I feel?  Or this I thrill to touch?

Such taste!  Once cool, luxuriantly grown!
Now serous, thawed, deliciously beset;
And dripping wild implore, and sweet delight,
This form doth crave me, sybaritic, wet:

As poised, and shook, reverberating! Prone
Beneath my fingers: arch, and push, and curve;
And sparkling like crystal with excite,
So shot with lightning’s fire, every nerve…

Then cool… this down of twilight, quiet shone;
Where she is mine this night, and mine alone.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Intro 2: A Thing of Beauty

Posted by David Emeron on

incalescent touch
serously thawed, dripping, wet
~sparkling like crystal~
in the cool down of twilight
where I am just yours, alone

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Sonnet I: Alighted Grace

Posted by David Emeron on

But sleek, one shape as wondrously soft,
More perfect in its drape than might one think;
And such, should be perfection held aloft,
That by this, would its height so make one sink.

For perfectly it thwarts ones every thought;
So pliant-smooth it courts by its design,
That brought so every instinct as it ought;
Requires nary thought to intertwine.

More alien than truly might one guess;
As fell another species though from sky;
Alighted grace, such beauty as would bless
The altar of my sleep, this place whereby,

As master and as slave, I feel anew;
Each moment strave my every wish come true!

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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Sonnet: A Key

Posted by David Emeron on

I love thee so, my sweetest, do I close
Up my romantic soul, and lock away
Its delicate embrace of thee I chose.

And for your sake, my children, shall I hide
Away its key; that none should see its truth
While every day I brave this worldly sway.

And yet, for me, the romance of my youth
Is sore alive, in all that I provide;
As, for thy comfort, every tree I fell;

Until–my wish at last–shall come the day
When all are safe, and everything is well.
My calloused hands, mine axe, shall lay aside;

This key, my soul’s romantic door, display
To thee, and to our children, love and pride.

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